Devil May Rise
by malicious pixie
Summary: Dante wants to give up devil hunting but the darkness isn't ready to let him throw in the towel just yet. Because of pure mortal stupidity and greed, something gets unleashed that Dante finds himself being, once again, the only one who can stop it.
1. No More?

Alright, so instead of updating my other fics, I seem to have written a new one. Dammit. Oh well. I guess I just like making it hard for myself.

Here's the first chap of this one

Enjoy

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**Devil May Rise: No More?**

The front door banged open and ricocheted off the wall as Dante stormed into his apartment. He dropped his coat on the floor by the entrance and flung his keys into a dish on the side table. Trish looked up from the TV in slight alarm but couldn't help a smile when Dante stalked into the room.

"Bad day at the office Sweetie?"

"Babe," the hunter huffed, "You don't know the half of it."

"Well," Trish said, shifting her legs off the couch and sitting up to make room for him. "Care to enlighten me?" She patted the cushion beside her in a sign for him to sit.

Dante walked past the couch as if he hadn't noticed her or the gesture and moved towards the window, staring through the pane at the now darkened sky with a scowl on his face. He sighed heavily and circled back.

"No," he grumbled. "I don't wanna get into it." He slumped on the couch and looked across at the TV with little interest. "What'r you watching?" he asked as a way of changing the current subject.

Trish edged closer and tucked her legs beneath her as she turned her gaze absently back to the television. "I dunno. I think it was called _Star Battles_ or something like that. A kid and two robots are trying to help this 12 inch ghost princess that seems to live inside the smaller robot. She came out again to talk to this old guy that gave the kid a giant glow stick. I think it's a weapon of some kind."

Dante snickered. "I think your talking about _Star WARS,_" he said lightly, his grim demeanour lessening for a moment. "And there's no ghost princess. It's a hologram. A projection of her that the little robot has recorded in him. 'Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope.'" he quoted in a mawkish, feminine voice.

"Oh…yeah," Trish nodded, "That makes more sense, I guess."

"Hm," Dante frowned and flicked off the TV, dropping the remote on the couch as he stepped towards the window again.

"Hey. I was watching that," Trish said with a puckered brow Dante couldn't see with his back to her.

"So turn it back on," he said, leaning on the sill as he looked out. "But in case you feel like saving your time, the Rebels beat the Empire and everybody is happy again. It's one of those 'Good Triumphs over Evil' deals everyone is so in love with."

Trish picked up the remote but didn't press any of the buttons. She watched Dante with wondering eyes; a silence falling between them that she knew she would have to break.

Setting down the remote and standing up from the couch, she padded over to the window. Dante turned his head so she couldn't see him in profile anymore and had to focus on his weak reflection in the glass.

"What's wrong?" she asked finally, her hand barely touching his arm in an indication of her concern. "You're not usually moody like this. What happened today?"

"Nothing," Dante took a long breath, "Nothing. Just the same shit happened today that happened yesterday that happened the day before that happened weeks before that happened months befo--"

"Dante," Trish had to cut him off before he rambled on like this forever. "I get it."

"No." Dante shot in, spinning on his heel as he moved to center of the room. "You don't get it…'Cause I don't get it!"

Trish frowned in confusion. "What exactly don't you and I get?"

"I don't know!" Dante shouted. "That's the problem." He shook his head, frustrated. "ME I guess. I don't get ME. Myself. I don't get why I still do this. Why I open those doors every goddamn fucking day and pick up that fucking phone and say the same goddamn words, 'Devil May Cry', then rush off to play hero again without ever questioning why."

Trish sighed but otherwise kept her silence, sensing Dante had not finished yet.

"I mean-I used to have a reason," the devil hunter continued. "I used to be looking for something. It wasn't just the thrill of fighting that got me going. I had a purpose when I started Devil May Cry. I wanted-no needed-to get back at the mother fucking devils that waltzed in and fucked up my life as a kid. I needed to know what happened to them-my mother-my brother. I had to know."

"…and what do I want now? Now that I know. Now that it's over and I've gotten my revenge." His voice dropped to almost a whisper. "What am I looking for this time? What's this big search I'm on that makes me continue?"

Dante looked over at Trish, a lingering quiet descending over the room. Trish knew he didn't expect an answer from her but she decided to offer him one anyway.

"You're a good guy Dante," she said quietly.

Dante gave a short rueful laugh and cocked his head. "You sure about that?"

Trish nodded slowly, but confidently. "You want to help the people that call. I think you feel obligated to wipe out whatever evil that rises so nobody else has to go through what you did as a child."

"Maybe," Dante muttered after letting what she had said sink in. "But that's pinning a lot on my supposed good nature." He wasn't entirely convinced by her view of things.

"Well I don't know what else to tell you Dante. I'm not you. I can't tell you how you're feeling or what you're thinking. I can only guess."

"You don't need to," Dante grumbled. "I don't need you to figure me out for me."

"And what if I'm trying to figure you out for me?" Trish asked a little sharply.

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that you haven't been the warmest of beings since you burst in here and I'm just wondering if I'll have this charming attitude of yours to look forward to every time I take the day off and leave you to run DMC?"

"What do you mean 'LEAVE ME' to run DMC?" Dante narrowed his eyes. "It's mine. I started it and I did perfectly fine by myself before you bashed down my door and came into my life. I don't need a babysitter. I can manage by myself."

"I didn't mean it like that," Trish said, softening her tone. "I just-I want to know what's bothering you, that's all. Up until now I thought you liked your job."

Dante exhaled loudly. "'Liked' being the operative word."

Trish brought her eyes up to his, studying him. "You mean you don't anymore?"

The devil hunter shrugged, "Maybe not."

"So you're not sure."

"MAY-BE," Dante drew out the syllables, raising his voice again before dropping back to his normal tone. "…Maybe I'm just tired of being the hero. Maybe I don't want to save the day anymore and maybe I want to stop being someone's 'Only Hope.'" He growled the last words, remembering the line from the movie. "Maybe," he began pacing, "I'm tired of risking my life to save people who don't even know who I am, let alone appreciate what I've done for them and the rest of humanity."

Trish blinked in surprise and Dante dropped his eyes from her, preferring to study the floor.

"What are you saying?" she asked, somewhat unsteadily. "…you want to give it up?"

Dante didn't answer. She reached out to him but he pulled away and walked towards the door, grabbing his coat off the floor. He stuffed his arms into the sleeves and smoothed out the collar. Trish came around the corner into the hall.

"Where are you going Dante?"

"Out," he said shortly, snatching his keys off the side table.

"Where?"

"Out," he reconfirmed.

Trish heaved a sigh and shook her head. "Well when will you be back?"

"When I am."

As Dante reached for the handle on the slightly ajar door, Trish came up and pushed it shut. "Talk to me Dante," she said, matching his clipped tone. "Where are you going?"

Dante whirled to face her. "Why?" he snapped. "You suddenly tired of just looking like my mother and now you want to be her too? What does it matter to you what I d-."

He stopped, realizing what he had said and how it had affected Trish. He watched the blond woman take a step back. She was visibly shaken and unable to hide the wounded look on her face.

As she took a calming breath and reached for the handle, Dante had to step out of the way before it swung into him. Trish forced a smile, hiding her quivering lip as best she could and pushed him out the door.

"Have fun," Trish said sweetly, her voice laced with underlying venom and hurt, "…SON…of Sparda."

Dante opened his mouth to say something but the door was already slammed in his face and the chain slid into place above the locks. He reached out with his keys but quickly thought better of it. He knew he'd stepped over the line in a very big way and Trish would need time to recover from his attack on her.

As far as he knew he hadn't meant what he'd said. But at this point he also wasn't completely sure what he was thinking. Maybe he did feel what he said about Trish. Maybe he didn't. Whatever the case, Dante knew both he and the blond woman needed some time and space alone to think. Dante at least needed it to get his shit together and his thoughts straight.

Putting his keys in his pocket, he stumbled a fast and quiet apology to the door-if in any case Trish was still standing on the other side-and walked morosely down the hall and out of his apartment.

On the street, he unlocked his car and slid into the driver's seat, resting his arms and forehead on the wheel as he took deep breaths and tried to forget what had just happened between him and Trish. After a while he leaned back in his seat and fitted his keys into the ignition, letting out a sigh as the engine turned over.

"Where the hell am I going anyway?"

Checking his mirrors, he swerved away from the curb and took off down the street, ignoring the angry honks and curses from the drivers whose cars had been made to crash into eachother when Dante cut them off. Apparently objects in to the mirror really were closer than they appeared. He would have to remember that for next time. Maybe.

After the accident he drove at a more cautious rate, deciding to obey the traffic laws just this once. It wasn't like he was in a hurry to get anywhere. He hadn't made a plan. He never flat-out decided where he was going, even though he kept steering and stepping on the gas and break to push his car forward.

His main purpose was just to get away-far away-and forget what he'd said and done earlier.

As if he really could.

Something was still keeping him back. And before it had registered completely in his mind, Dante was parked outside DMC, inattentively drumming the dashboard as he looked on at the bright neon glow of the sign that reminded him of the life he'd made for himself.

He would have just driven away at that point and pretended to himself he'd never been back, except for the small fact that the lights were on inside and a shiny black car was parked out front.

He wanted to believe that he'd left the lights on when he'd left and that the expensive car was just parked there for some reason unknown to him. Maybe the guy was headed for the skin bar in the back and took a wrong turn. Dante had had to reroute a lot of lost customers like that in the past, but something told him that this one was actually for him.

Grudgingly he grabbed his keys out of the ignition and pushed open his door, standing up in the wet and dark street. He slammed the door closed, making sure that was at least locked and secure, and made his way towards DMC, somewhat more warily as he neared the door.

He didn't know who to expect from the car and he wasn't about to take any chances by being caught off his guard.

As Dante came up to the door, he leaned his ear against the hard wood, listening for sounds inside as he grabbed the handle with one hand and reached inside his jacket for Ebony with the other. In the next second, he tossed open the door and stood at the entrance with his gun pointed at the head of his startled intruder.

The short, podgy man who looked completely out of place in his finely tailored suit, gave a start and dropped the weapon he had taken off the wall and had been examining. The blade of the dagger stuck into the floor and barely missed the man's own foot.

"That's called breaking and entering," Dante said gruffly, but relaxing a bit now that he saw what he was up against.

The man stumbled out a few incoherent words before coughing into his fist and clearing his throat. "Oh I did not break anything. I assure you. The door was not bolted when I arrived. I entered. And you were not here. I merely assumed you would be back in five minutes."

"Great. I forgot to lock the door along with not remembering to turn off the lights. I'm doing well today." He griped to himself and shook his head, replacing his gun to its holster.

He walked into the room and moved close enough to the man to realize just how much he towered over him and how much the guy didn't fit the bill of an actual businessman-at least not how Dante had ever pictured them.

The guy was barely 5 foot and had the light hearted face Dante would have associated with a child entertainer than a businessman. He wore large framed classes and had a long, thick moustache that looked like the end of a push broom. In fact, apart from the suit, Dante would never have guess the man ever dealt with, let alone seen, any large sums of money.

"And how long ago did you expect me to 'be back in five minutes'?" he asked the man, scrutinizing his appearance once again.

The man looked down at his watch in a slightly jittery movement and came to the conclusion that it had been about an hour and a half.

Dante nearly laughed. "You're a pretty patient guy," he remarked.

The man nodded. "I would have waited till next morning to talk to you, had it come to that."

"It has," Dante jumped in, losing the amusement in his voice. "We're closed for the day. Sorry you got the wrong idea from how I left things but I don't normally forget to close up when I leave. And I don't see clients after hours."

"But certainly you can make this one exception." It wasn't made in the form of a question.

The man reached down and picked up a large briefcase from the floor and heaved it onto Dante desk with more exertion than was necessary. Dante stood in place for a couple of minutes but eventually gave in and walked up to his desk; the man immediately flicking open the latches on the case and pulling up the lid.

The devil hunter's face never wavered from his look of disinterest but he sat at his desk anyway to hear what the man wanted to say, tossing his hand in a manner of saying 'Spill it quickly or get out.'

The man cleared his throat again and took a seat before the desk, crossing his legs and folding his hands over his large stomach. He somehow became more at ease now that he was being permitted to speak.

"How long have you been in this sort of, shall I say, profession?" he asked calmly.

Dante frowned at the question but humoured him with an answer anyway. "Long enough," he said.

"I see," smiled the man, "And is this-"

"Is this an interview or do you actually have something worth while to ask me?" Dante bit at him, losing what little patience he had managed to muster.

"Ah yes," the man said, straightening up in his chair. "Down to business then, eh? Alright. What I am offering you is a chance to prove to the world…"

Dante barely listened from that point on. He'd already made up his mind to turn the guy down from that simple sentence and the more he heard of the man's short tale, the easier his decision became.

"No," he said finally when the man had finished. "Sorry. Not interested."

This easy reply stunned the man into silence, his eyes opening a little wider behind his large glasses. Dante stared back at him calmly, his feet now resting comfortably on his desk and his hands clasped over his chest in a mirroring gesture of the man's.

"But you must be joking," the man protested, at last.

Dante smiled vaguely, "Am I?"

The man chuckled nervously, unsure of how to react to the situation. He shoved the briefcase closer to Dante, trying once again to entice the devil hunter with its contents. "Look at all I'm offering you. You'd be mad not to take it!"

"Then I guess I'm just crazy," Dante kicked his feet off the desk and leaned over, nearly closing the briefcase on the man's fingers. "I don't need your money."

"But-"

"Look buddy, I don't know what people told you about me, or what you thought when you walked in here, but I'm gonna have to disappoint you. I'm a devil hunter. That means I waste the things that go bump in the night, the things people wish only exist in their worst nightmares."

Dante waved his hand around the room, motioning to the unusual, morbid décor of demon skulls and weaponry that were the trademarks of his profession. He caught the man with a cool stare.

"In case you haven't figured it out by now, I don't do this for the money. This isn't just a job, it's my life. So yeah, I kinda expect there to be some excitement in it if I'm going to do it everyday. Money's nothing to me. I'll do I job for free if I can get a good thrill out of it."

"But wouldn't this be thrilling?" The man stepped in, "You'd be battling hunters from across the globe. You could gain the title of strongest being in both the world and the underworld. Imagine the fame, the riches."

Dante sighed loudly and shook his head. ""You're just not getting it," he said aggressively, "I don't want fame. I don't want riches. I like living in the underground. I'm glad most people don't know about me. If I wanted the spotlight I'd be there already. I'm not desperate for money, and even if I was, I wouldn't lower myself to the kind of level you're suggesting. I'm not a fuckin entertainer. I'm not here for anyone's amusement. You want a show, go hire a clown. I won't do it."

Dante stood and walked towards the other man who visibly tensed before him.

"It's too bad you share the misconception that money makes the world go round, but the underworld doesn't work that way-I don't work that way. You can dangle as much cash as you like in front of me but that won't make me jump through any hoops. So just take your briefcase and go. I'm not interested."  
The man picked up his briefcase and left silently and without much hesitation. The glaring look Dante was giving him was enough proof that the negotiations were over. He wouldn't be getting the son of the legendary Sparda after all.

Dante watched the door close and angrily slammed himself into his chair but was too restless to actually stay sitting. He got up and paced around the room, realizing quickly that he had to get out before he tore the place apart, especially since it was the man with the briefcase he wanted to rip into…Or was it himself?

Everything he had said to the man was looping around in his mind, mingling with what he had told Trish earlier.

What the hell did he believe anymore? Was he a hunter or wasn't he? Did he want to save people or was he only ever in it for the thrill?

"Fuck it. I'm not getting into this right now." He yelled to hopefully drown out the questions in his mind. He didn't want to think about anything right now.

Why couldn't he just be mad at someone other than himself for just a little while? He wanted to strangle the guy with the briefcase for making him think and question himself and his motives.

"What the fuck is wrong with people? How could he possibly think I'd be interested in-"

The phone rang. Dante rushed over to pick it up.

"Yeah-ah-Devil May Cry...uh huh....warehouse...yeah...lots of demons...sure...right....bye."

Dante grabbed his sword and flipped off the light switch as he ran out.

Time to blow off a little steam.

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Well that's it. Action in the coming chapter.

Let me know what you think.

REVIEW


	2. Blasting Rats

Alright. Another chapter. Finally moving along with this. Thanks for all reviews so far. Keep 'em comin.

Here's the next chap

Enjoy

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Blasting Rats**

Dante stood outside the warehouse for some time, scowling as he took in the image of the rundown building. His eyes glanced over the broken windows, the glass and rubble that littered the ground, the smashed in walls, the holes in some places big enough to drive a van through; all the decay of something having long been abandoned. He wasn't impressed by any of it. And the longer he stared at the place, the less he wanted to be there.

What the hell was he doing wasting his time here anyway? Did he really have nothing better to do? Was he that desperate to blow off a little steam? And would any of this really make him forget what had happened in the past hour and a half, even for a little while?

Not likely. But here he was anyway. Waiting outside, and just itching to get it all over with…or abandon the whole thing entirely and let the guy on the phone deal with it. Dante didn't think he'd feel sorry if he did.

Sure the client had sounded distressed, they all usually sounded somewhat apprehensive. But so did people calling for exterminators as they stood on chairs to try and get away from a helpless little rodent.

And a rodent problem was exactly the vibe Dante was getting from this place. Rats—in his line of work. Just a load of minor, mindless demons he'd have to round up and wipe out.

How exciting. He'd get to be an exterminator. And as far as Dante was concerned, there was a fine, but very distinct line between being an exterminator and a devil hunter. Hunting was helping people and saving lives. Exterminating just involved getting rid of a nuisance. And a nuisance was what this had become to Dante and what it was to the guy who had called.

Apparently all the demons that had set up shop in the warehouse were ruining the construction schedule by protecting their home from the demolition crews. Expensive machinery had been destroyed and some workers had been attacked—all in broad daylight. Yet no one ever saw what was causing the damage and the crew refused to go back to work until all the weird happenings stopped.

It now fell to Dante to fix the problem and see to it that everything got back on schedule.

Nice.

This little outing was precisely the kind of thing Dante had been trying to avoid all the years he'd run DMC. He hadn't even accepted these pathetic jobs when he was first starting out and he couldn't believe he'd done it now.

"Whatever," Dante told himself. "Just get in and get out. It'll be that easy." _Too easy to be any fun or worth my time._

The devil hunter came up to the front door-or at least what appeared to be the main door-and found it chained. He almost laughed when he remembered the abundance of broken concrete walls, whose gaps left plenty of little doors for the demons to come and go as they pleased. How was a chain on a breaking door going to stop anyone or anything from getting in or out?

Didn't really matter, but he found it funny all the same.

Dante kicked open the doors and the rusted chain snapped easily. One of the doors flew off its wrecked hinges and landed with a loud thud ahead of the devil hunter and he walked over it as he stepped inside and looked around.

"Here's Johnny!" He half smirked to himself, but his frown soon set back into place when all he saw around him were shadows, thickly dusted machinery and otherwise empty space. No signs of any demons, at least none visible to him in the meagre light coming through the broken panes of glass.

He walked in deeper, his feet crunching and sliding in things he didn't want to think about and he continued scanning the area for the supposed demons. Nothing. Everything seemed normal and the place looked empty.

"Great," Dante muttered. A large brown rodent scurried by his foot and into the shadows again. He glared at it, beginning to think maybe it was just rats, even if it didn't explain the trashed machinery outside.

Dante made a circle around all the machinery, watching and listening for any signs of life, but all he could hear was the tiny patter of rodents scuttling about the warehouse. It was just an infestation of common rats, nothing demonic about this place.—A big waste of time.

He kicked a hunk of some unidentifiable machine in frustration and the sound echoed throughout the nearly vacant building. But the noise died quickly and Dante was left listening to the scattering rodents. He didn't think about being quiet now. There was nothing in this place to be weary of. He was far from the point of shrieking if he saw a mouse.

Ten minutes of searching fruitlessly for demons, Dante drifted angrily back to the door he'd come in through, not that a door was really needed to make an exit, but he didn't feel like climbing through a whole in the wall like the other rats running about.

He was jabbering his irritation under his breath as he stomped through the dark towards the opening and the broken doors. Something rushed by him as he was just about to step over the smashed slab of door but he didn't catch what it was. All he felt was a strong wind rustle his long jacket and his hair. He shrugged it off as a gust from the open door and proceeded to leave, suddenly stopping mid-stride when he heard a smooth growl from behind-nothing more than a whisper-but it was a noise uncommon to any wind he'd ever heard.

Dante spun around and still could not see a thing. His eyes squinted. He searched his surroundings, trying to see deep into the shadows. All his gaze told him was what he'd already determined: that the place was empty. But his gut was telling him something different. He suddenly believed he was no longer alone with the rats.

"Where are you?" Dante said softly, taking a few steps away from the doorway. He reached into his jacket, clasping the hilt of a handgun.

The rats were still running around blindly in the darkness and it took all the devil hunter's concentration not to be distracted by, or shoot at them wildly. He was beginning to hear the strange rumbling noise from all around the warehouse now. There was definitely something out there, but just how many and what exactly they were was another story. Dante couldn't see them no matter how hard he tried.

Soon enough, he felt his other hand rise inside his jacket, without entirely meaning to, and he pulled out Ebony and Ivory, waving the barrels slowly in front of him as he sifted through the darkness with his eyes for the creatures.

The rumbling got louder in his ears and before long it was just one long buzzing sound that blocked out everything else. Dante shook his head, pressing his palms to his ears, trying to clear his hearing. It was like listening to the constant static of a television set; one he couldn't turn off. It was irritating and off-putting and it quickly became the only thing the devil hunter could focus on—Trying to stop the hum.

Distracted, he barely noticed a rat skittering up his pant leg until he felt its tiny sharp claws dig into his leg and he shook it off angrily, swinging his hips. The rodent dropped to the ground a few feet away from him, letting out a little squeak. Dante snarled at it. Lowering a hand from his head, he aimed a gun at it, slowly pulling the trigger.

The rat squealed shrilly, blood exploding from its body. Dante gaped and narrowed his eyes. He hadn't fully pulled the trigger. No bullet had left his gun.

"What the fu-" The words fell short before completely leaving his mouth. Dante watched the dead rodent slowly rise into the air and he caught the faintest glimmer of razor sharp teeth as the vermin's blood trickled over the feeding creature's massive jaws.

"Oh shit." Dante's breath caught in his throat and his comment turned into more of a gasp as the jaws tossed the rat's crushed body to the side, having lost interest in it. The mouth focused back on Dante and the growl of the creature staring at him became clearest, rising above the din of the others in his ears.

The devil hunter stumbled back a few feet as the invisible head cocked to the side, studying him hungrily before slowly bobbing towards him. He could now see large, birdlike footprints left behind it in the dust and grime of the floor. The demon wasn't too tall. Its whole body seemed to stand below Dante's shoulders, around mid-chest, but that wasn't much of a comfort when he couldn't see it, or know how many of them there actually were. The only saving grace was that the one stalking him at the moment had its mouth smeared with blood so he could keep track of it.

"Come and get me you freaky sonuvabitch," Dante growled at the creature. He raised his guns again and fired a few shots at the demon. Green spurts of blood rose up as his bullets hit their mark and the creature dropped, its bloody jaws opening and closing slowly as it emitted a high pitched squeal, similar to the one the rat had made earlier when it had killed it.

Dante's eyes widened when he heard an answering cry from a creature no more than an inch to his left. He should have known it was there just by the hot acrid smell of its breath, but he had been distracted by the other demon.

Clever plan.

He turned his head slowly and saw a haze, a brief outline of the creature before he was blasted hard in the side by its thick head and blown back onto the broken door.

Not letting him get up, the demon jumped on his chest heavily, knocking the wind out of him. Dante wheezed and felt his sword press into his spine as the creature pinned his shoulders down with its clawed feet. Its hold on his arms was crushing and he nearly whimpered when the jagged claws wrapped around his collar and dug into his back.

He wriggled beneath the weight of the demon, watching a glob of thick saliva drip down from what had to be its open jaws. He turned his nose up at the stench of its breath, twisting his head away from the almost dizzying smell and the disgusting blob of demon spit making its way towards his face. The creature dipped its head down and Dante felt the nauseating warmth of the saliva drop onto his cheek and seep down his neck. He groaned and scrunched his eyes, hearing the demon suck in air, taking in his scent. A sharp pain followed as its razor teeth grazed his jaw, immediately drawing blood. The creature's tongue flicked out and lapped at Dante's cheek quickly before it raised its head and screeched deafeningly.

Dante wished he could have covered his ears in that brief moment, not only because it was loud, but because he could hear the tinge of delight and warning in its cry; the demon had claimed its prize and told the others to back off.

The first rush of fear came to Dante at that precise moment. How the hell was he going to get out of this? He was pinned, alone and unarmed. He was completely helpless. His guns had been knocked out of his hands by the surprise thrust to his ribs and he couldn't get to his sword. Even if he was able to reach back for Alastor, it would be impossible to pull it out from under him. It was wedged between his body and the door and there was no way for him to push up and make room to slip it free.

Great. He was going to die here, only to be feasted upon by rats-if the demons left any part of him after they'd finished devouring what they wanted, that is.

And that was a comforting thought. The half devil that had beaten the Darkness Mundus would die in a warehouse by a flock of giant invisible turkeys—or whatever the hell it was that was attacking him. The podgy guy with the briefcase would love that. He'd thought the son of Sparda was invincible. This little event would at least show him otherwise.

All around, Dante heard the stomp of the other creatures and their disorienting growls beginning again. He nearly fell into a trance, listening to them, but a sharp cry from the creature on top of him brought him back to the moment and he was sprayed with sticky drool as the demon bent down to tear at the soft flesh of his throat.

The blood gushed out of the bite wound, just as Dante's scream lodged in chest. He was lost in the white hot pain and the terror of being eaten alive. He'd never felt this kind of absolute fear. Even when he had fought Mundus, he had remained cool and collected, infuriatingly calm. Now he'd gone straight from jittery panic to heart-stopping terror; completely skipping over the pants wetting stage that should have followed the initial shock.

The demon was eating him! Dante couldn't believe it. If he hadn't been in such real pain he would have shrugged it off as a bad dream. But he couldn't get past the agony and the heat of his blood leaving his body through the gash on his neck. The creature hadn't torn any flesh away just yet. It seemed merely content to make him bleed for now, licking at the fount when smelling the coppery liquid wasn't enough, but the threat of it was dangerously close. It wouldn't be long, Dante figured, before the demon was ripping at him, or the others joined in, creating frenzy.

Dante had his eyes shut tight. Feeling the demon shredding his flesh was enough, he didn't need to see it too. A painful press on his chest and shoulders told him that the creature was standing up on him again and he heard its shrill cry for the third and what he decided was the final time. The demon was done tasting him and was going in for the kill.

The devil hunter scrunched up his face as much as he could, preparing himself for the inevitable torture as he bit back his fear. He felt an excruciating pain in his shoulders as the demon ripped back its clawed feet, breaking his collar bone on one side and splitting the skin up to the bone on the other. The weight on his chest suddenly disappeared. Dante opened his eyes and blinked widely. Lying there, feeling almost paralyzed, he watched the demon with his blood smeared on its face fending off a hoard of other creatures like him, their screeches rising up in the warehouse. None of the battle was all that visible to Dante since all he saw were random bursts of the demons' green blood as they fought each other over him, but he could get the gist of what was going on just by their harried calls.

The impatient and greedy little bastards weren't going to let one have Dante all to itself. They would fight. And if Dante was lucky, they'd wipe each other out. But just to be sure, he slowly rolled up onto his knees, not wanting to draw any more attention to himself. He was almost forgotten by now anyway and he edged towards his guns, nearly passing out from pain as he was forced to put his weight on at least one of his shoulders.

He looked for the haze in the darkness to know whether he was getting too close to a demon. Their bodies weren't entirely invisible and he could see their slight, wavy outlines if he looked hard enough.

He reached Ebony and thrust it into its holster before sliding over and picking up Ivory, which he kept in his hand. He couldn't hold a gun, let alone move his right arm so there was no point in keeping both weapons out. He moved into a heavily shadowed area of the building and leaned back against the wall, hissing air as the pain shot through his limbs. He hoped to conceal himself long enough to either watch the demons take each other down, or heal a sufficient amount to be able to fight back if they turned on him again.

He couldn't get out just yet. Sure there were plenty of holes to escape out of. He'd already made a note of all of them when he'd been searching the place earlier, but the truth was he didn't have the energy to crawl through them. He also didn't want to risk exposing himself to the light coming through the gaps in the walls in case one of the straggling demons happened to notice.

No. It was best to just lay quiet and let the demons deal with themselves.

Dante didn't know how many had actually fallen by the time one of his shoulders had healed enough for him to be able to really pull the trigger of his gun without the pain being unbearable, but it didn't matter. He'd had enough of their screeching and was now ready to do something about it.

Standing and putting the least amount of pressure on his arms as possible, Dante walked steadily towards the rippling air that had to be a cluster of demons. He pointed his guns straight at the center of the waving mass and fired as many rounds as was left in the magazine of his handgun. A shower of demon blood blew up in the center and covered the remaining creatures lightly. Dante could now see each and every one that was left fighting.

They all turned on him, some sounding panicked or angry cries before jumping at him. Dante simply grinned and reached over his shoulder for Alastor, completely ignoring to the ache of his wounds. He clipped two vaulting demons in two and moved on to the remaining six.

It was not long before he'd slashed through the rest of the demons and was satisfied that the place was empty of all living things, save for himself and the rats. He stepped through the littered bodies of the dead, snarling at the thought of how close he'd come to being their little snack.

There must have been about thirty of the invisible, bird-like, or maybe even reptilian demons, but they were all gone now. At the center of a particularly large pile of creatures, Dante found what he was looking for—the demon that had attacked him and taken his blood.

The wound had healed on his neck, but the skin there was still raw and Dante brushed his hand lightly against it, wincing. He saw that his blood was even now plastered to the demon's large head and it made him angry again at the fear it had made him feel. The thought of his terror made him want to slash the demon to little bloody pieces. And he would do it. Just to make himself feel better.

"Motherfucker," Dante growled and raised his sword above the demon as he drove it down in a rage. The creature suddenly reared up and rammed him in the stomach with its head. Dante fell backwards over the other bodies and it charged past him and escaped through one of the holes in the walls. Rapidly, the devil hunter got to his feet and pursued it, jumping out of the same gap in which the creature had fled. He was livid and had an even stronger urge to rip that demon to shreds.

In the streets, Dante had a hard time trying to keep up and at one point he even thought he'd lost track of it, but it wasn't long before he heard human screaming and was back on the creature's trail.

He found it in an alley, stooped over the body of a young man whose face was so white and his eyes so vacant from fear that Dante almost thought he was a store mannequin. He silently wondered if he'd looked that pale when the demon was attacking him.

Again, it didn't matter. But it was something to think about later…maybe.

Without a second thought, Dante flung out his sword like a boomerang, cutting through the demon as the sword twirled and returned to his hand. The demon squealed and jumped away, not completely dead.

"Get up!" Dante barked at the boy, whose eyelids never batted once as he spoke. Dante fired at the demon as it tried to escape again and it fell. "GET UP!" he yelled again, hauling the boy to his feet himself. He shoved him towards the end of the alley. "RUN." He said shortly before turning back to demon to finish him off.

The demon squeaked pathetically as he stood over it, the point of his sword hovering above its head. Dante caught sight of a few quick white flashes before he hissed and plunged his sword down. The demon died with a spray of green blood.

Dante wiped his face with his sleeve and walked calmly away from the wasted demon. He brushed past the boy at the end of the alley.

"Go home kid," he said, glancing at the boy's vacant purple eyes. The young man said nothing. And Dante clapped his hands before his face. "Hey! Did you hear me?" He repeated his earlier words and the boy finally nodded.

"What…what was that?" He asked a little shakily, blowing dirty blond bangs out of his face as he stared into the alley.

"What was what?" Dante asked dismissively. "I didn't see a thing." He smirked and slung Alastor onto his back. The boy gawked at his sword and he smiled, grasping his shoulder gently before walking away.

Poor kid. Didn't know what he'd seen—or hadn't seen. All he'd remember was falling over and running into a crazy white-haired guy with a massive sword. And that was almost as unbelievable as the existence of real demons.

Dante shook his head and laughed. "Poor kid."

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So that's it for yet another chapter. Hope it was entertaining. I tried. Of any reviews are very much appreciated.

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